


House of Black

by miss_sonder



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beltane, Black Madness, Blood purity, Changelings, Dark Magic, Death, Death Eaters, Dysfunctional Family, Fae & Fairies, Family, Family Dynamics, Glass Delusion, Go Easy On Me, House Elves, Insanity, Madness, Marriage, Multi, No beta we die like illiterates, Regret, Stains, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, The Sacred Twenty-Eight (Harry Potter), Unbreakable Vow (Harry Potter), Wedding, Yule, dead and alive house elves, i haven't written in so long lol, i wish they didn't have to die but it was a must, l'appel du vide, toujours purs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24191065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_sonder/pseuds/miss_sonder
Summary: A background of Black Madness, and Walburga Black's decent into it.
Relationships: Orion Black/Walburga Black
Kudos: 19





	1. Stains

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you would like me to continue this, I have plenty more but I don't know if it's even worth it lol

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had many secrets hidden in their blood, from tyranny and war crimes, to dark magic and most importantly madness. Madness plagued their family and tainted their blood. It was a well known secret among the Sacred Twenty-eight. They were respected, but held at an arm’s length from the other pureblood families. 

It had been like this since the beginning, although they only began documenting it in the middle ages. The Black Madness could be traced all the way back to a witch named Hesper Black, who was born a Black, raised a Black, and died a Black. She never married, and stayed in her ancestral home until the day she died. 

In her sister Phoebe Black’s personal diary, she wrote how her sister would claw and carve at her skin to release her blood. When her blood did pour, she would sigh with content, and praise at how well it would sing. She had a choir coursing through her blood that begged to be released. Hesper’s life was cut short when a dark curse went wrong, and her skin was sliced from her body. 

Her blood still stained the library’s floor.

Pollux Black told this story to his three children, and even had read from Phoebe’s diary. His sons, Alphard and Cygnus, laughed, and thought it nothing more than an old wive’s tale to scare them. He would give his sons a long, unreadable look when they laughed, and warned them to ignore l’appel du vide. The call of the void. 

The two boys didn’t worry about that, they never felt that terrible and dark grip that touched one’s very soul. Walburga did though. 

She looked at her father, ignoring her brother’s antics, and then at Hesper’s stain. 

“Father,” She asked. “Would you still love me if I fell into the void?”

Her question pulled Pollux out of his thoughts, and truly looked at his daughter for the first time in a long time. She had the classic Black traits, dark curled hair, dark eyes, pale-almost translucent skin, and sharp, pointed features. The Malfoy’s had once described her as waifish, and other less polite company murmured something of her being a changeling. For the first few years of her life, he feared that she was a changeling, but now he feared that she was truly a Black. 

While her father looked thoughtful, Walburga felt her fear settle deep into her bones. She knew that she had already felt l’appel du vide, and knew that it was making her mind and soul dark and gaping. She knew that she already had been stained, but still wondered if it was too late. 

Finally Pollux answered his daughter’s question. “I would love you if you fell, I would love you enough to protect you from yourself. We are Blacks, we are toujours purs.”

“Toujours purs,” She whispered back. 

Walburga showed the signs that the void had claimed her, even before she went to Hogwarts. She would stare emptily at the stars, and speak to empty rooms. She walked on the tips of her toes, and walked sideways through doorways. If she had to use a chair, she demanded pillows be stacked high into the air before she would sit down. 

“Wallie,” Alphard started. “Why are you doing this?”

He stared at his sister as she lay in a pile of cushions. Today was one of the days she refused to leave her room, too scared of something he couldn’t understand. 

“I fear that I am made of glass, and that someday I will break and you will not be able to put me back together again.”

Alphard made a noise of surprise and understanding. 

When her Hogwarts letter arrived, her parents were worried about sending her. Still, they sent her. She did well, excelled in charms and runes, and her brothers always kept a watchful eye on her. 

In her first year she became close friends with her second cousin, Orion Black, and her social circle grew overnight. They put up with her strange ways, they had heard of Black Madness before, and grew fond of her. She was waif like, and beautiful, even at the age of eleven, but they still kept their distance. 

It was Yule of her fifth year when things began to grow tense in the family. No one had made offers for her marriage, not even with her large dowry or the power her family had. She was a power witch, elegant, beautiful, but bloody mad. When Orion came to visit his family over the holidays, he signed her betrothal. Only a Black could tame a Black. 

Orion found Walburga in her rooms, draped in quilts and on a pile of cushions. She was staring blankly at the night sky, and he took the time to appreciate her beauty. He enjoyed her dark, untamed curls, pulled gently back from her face. Her pale face had an impish beauty, and her eyes were dark and framed with even dark lashes. Her lips, just as pale, were plump and in a slight frown. 

“You know,” He said. “I’ve never danced under the night sky before.”

He didn’t know why he said it, but he didn’t regret it. 

So he took her outside to the infamous Black gardens, and held her closely to himself. He was only two years older, but felt so ancient yet so young when he was with her. She sighed into his chest, and danced lightly on her toes. 

“I feel so safe with you.”

Orion was surprised. It was a very vulnerable thing for her to say, very unlike her, and yet felt so proud that she was the one saying it to him.

“I’m glad,” He said. “I want to keep you safe, and I hope you know I plan to that in our marriage.”

She stiffened, but finished the dance. 

That night on Yule, Walburga took her letter opener and plunged it deep into her chest, where her heart called out to be released. She bled and bled onto her bedroom floor, and watched that crimson red stain the mahogany floors. Now she understood what Hesper meant by blood singing. 

It was her house elf, Mippy, who found her only ten minutes after the act. Walburga would survive, and they would piece her glass back together again.


	2. Claimed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will fix later

In the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, tradition was of utmost importance. That included the sacred days, such as Beltane, Summer Solstice, Yule, and so on. It also included hiding weakness from outsiders, from mistresses to Walburga’s recent attempt.

Another weakness, an accident in the eyes of the Black Law, was the Phineas Nigellus Black and the muggle incident. In his own sister, Elladora Black’s words, Phineas was a prominent member of the family, a Headmaster at Hogwarts, and his blight to the family name could be forgiven with repentance and punishment.

She wrote mostly praise of his accomplishments whenever she mentioned him in her diary. Until the incident, that is. He had a muggle _whore_ , she refused to even call that abomination a mistress despite her fitting that description. She trusted Ursula, nee Flint, to handle the matter on her own, she was his wife and that was her _duty_.

“ _Ursula_ ,” She hissed at their weekly afternoon tea. “You must end this blasphemous sin that my brother has done unto you.”

Ursula sipped her tea delicately. She looked thoughtful and made a hum of acknowledgement. Her sister-in-law and now in blood, mirrored her actions and sipped her own tea.

“I know that something must be done, but I am not quite sure how to handle the situation in the _right_ manner.”

It was several months later when Elladora brought up the subject again. This time with more conviction.

“He has now impregnated something comparable to a beast. If you do nothing to right the wrongs your husband, my brother, has committed then I will.”

Ursula said nothing.

Elladora called upon two house elves, Dinty and Uppy. She looked down her aristocratic nose at them, and sniffed in the most dignified manner. She would show how the Black family handled delicate matters, and she would show her dear sister how to finish something that should have never begun.

“Uppy, grab the dullest cleaver you can find, we will be punishing Dinty today.” Elladora said.

The house elf apparated quickly and came back with the cleaver. He offered it to his mistress, who denied it, and gave the creature a look that could only be described as malicious. She summoned her wand and pointed it at the elf.

“Dinty has displeased me in the most grave of ways.” Elladora stated. “I want his head on that silver platter he is now too old and weak to carry.”

Elladora Black and Ursula Black nee Flint, watched the sobbing elf behead his brethren. Ursula grew pale and shook in her own chair, but something awoke in Elladora as she watched the elf’s head roll onto the sunroom’s floor. The blood poured out of its limp body much slower than she expected, and she wondered if that beast of a whore’s blood would look differently.

“I will take care of this matter, Ursula dear, do not worry.”

Elladora Black wrote in great detail of how she carved the head of that muggle whore clear off her body in front of her own brother. Phineas begged to have the baby saved, but it too was punished for entering this world. She drained both mistakes of their blood, and saved some of the sin in a vial.

Phineas sobbed and claimed that he loved the beasts. She couldn’t stand hearing for a moment longer. The blood was loud and demanding, wanting to be returned back to its creator. As much as she tried, she couldn’t ignore its commanding voice and forced her brother to drink his _lover’s_ and unborn child’s blood.

“It started with you and ended with you, brother.”

Elladora grew fascinated with blood after that, similar to Hesper, and claimed that it would speak and command her to do despicable and dastardly acts. She even went as far as having Dippy’s head preserved and hung in the sunroom to remind the other’s that one day too, their blood will call to her and she will answer.

Pollux warned his sons, Alphard and Cygnus, of this. It was too late for Walburga, she already fell to the song of blood, but not yet the call of blood. He asked, no begged although he would never admit to it, his sons to protect their sister from herself, from her madness, the Black Madness. They agreed with a solemn nod, and it became an unspoken agreement between the two of them that this was now a part of their family duties.

It was the night before Orion and Walburga’s wedding, that Pollux pulled aside his future son-in-law. He recounted Elladora and how she did not deny what her blood demanded of her. Pollux gave a grave warning and a firm handshake to young Orion.

“I give you my blessing and more, Orion.” Pollux managed to bark out in a not unkind way.

The wedding took place the next day, shortly after their graduation from Hogwarts. Their wedding was a grand affair, one for the family tomes in their shared ancestral home, and was talked about in the society columns and the best of the best social circles. After the unspeakable vow, the dance with father and daughter, they were no longer children, but man and wife.

The first time Walburga heard the demanding call of blood was on her wedding night with her virginal bleeding. It wasn’t like the chorus she heard when it left her body in a rush, but similar to a deity giving his worshippers commandments. It gave her power, and despite being made of glass, she now felt unstoppable, taken by the Blood of Black and protected by the Blood of Black.

Orion denied hearing its call, but she knew it was there.

The wedding night was nought to be talked about, Orion refused to brag about his wife’s beauty to Abraxas Malfoy or the others, but he did whisper to Malfoy in private that he worried he awoken something fearful and dreadful in his wife once her blood was spilt. Malfoy was sympathetic to his friend, but remained silent in the matter.

Black Madness was feared even outside of the Black family. Malfoy had no comforting words to give.

The newly wed couple moved into their family summer home, as both their parents were still alive and well, and began their lives together shortly after.

It was only shortly after the wedding that Walburga developed more eccentricities. She insisted  
on her robes being only the darkest shades of green possible, to give her respect to her pure blood, and refused having any roses to enter her house. Walburga was convinced that she would prick her finger on a thorn and would fall into an eternal slumber.

Despite these new developments, they were happy and Orion grew to love her more.

“Wallie,” Orion said late one morning. “I think we should try for a child.”

They stopped their stroll in the garden. There was dew still on the plants, and the sun was just beginning to warm up for the day. Kreacher, their house elf gifted to them on their wedding day, stood next to his mistress. The house elf felt an undeniable bond after he made a blood oath to serve and protect her, even if it was from herself. He took a step back knowing that he was not needed, like any good house elf, but stayed near enough to hear if he was needed.

Walburga felt her blood rush and listened to it as it demanded her to give him an heir. “Yes, my darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip denty


	3. Birthed

The birth of Sirius Black III was a joyous occasion. It was the third of November, and after a laborious birth (a difficult birth was tradition for any good Black Heir), Orion and Walburga’s first born was welcomed into the world. November third marked the beginning of life and the thriving legacy of House of Black.

He was a beautiful babe, asleep in his cradle, with dark hair like his mother and pale skin like his ancestors. He had a rosebud mouth and a healthy set of lungs on him. Sirius would wail so loudly the very house shook, and on his first day of living he show placed his first display of accidental magic. When he cried for his mother, the windows would crack. He was perfect. He was powerful. He was everything they could ask for and more.

When Orion looked at his son he felt nothing but warmth in his heart and pride. Walburga wept oceans worth of tears every time she looked at her first born. Her son was so beautiful. She was so _glad_ that he didn’t inherit her curse of being made of glass, and that he would survive this harsh world.

All was good in their summer home, now home to three instead of two, for a while.

It only took a fortnight for things to go wrong.

There was a blood curdling scream, well past midnight, and Orion found himself running towards the nursery. _His son must be safe, his wife must be safe, nothing must happen to them or the world would simply shatter_. He found his wife, pale and so thin-too thin-- standing over his son’s cradle with her wand pointed at his sleeping body.

“By the spirits, Walburga!” He hollered. “What the bloody hell are you doing?”

He pulled his hysteric wife into his arms, crushing her birdlike bones in his grip, but he didn’t care, he must save his child, his only heir, his _very_ blood.

Walburga struggled more. Her own husband was trying to protect that monster that took her baby’s place. During her struggle she forgot that she was made of glass and that she could easily break, she forgot that she was of magic and had magic, and bit deeply into her husband’s arm. The blood soaked onto her tongue, her taste buds begged for more, she clamped down harder and stronger, in an unyielding manner, and the taste of blood-deep and rich, filled her mouth.

She now understood the commands of blood. She now knew what Hesper Black meant by the hollowed sound of blood singing.

“ _That_ ,” She glared at the infant. “Is not our son! That thing is not my baby!”

Orion slapped her.

“They stole our baby! They stole our child!” She was slapped again but she continued on with her wailing. Orion silently compared her to a banshee.

Orion took one look at his son, now crying in his cradle, and knew that it was still his son, not some monster, not a changeling his wife claimed him to be. His heart ached. He could not heal his wife. He could not pull her back from the void, and now he thrust her further into it with their own shared blood. He loved his wife, and he loved his son, and he loved his blood, and had a deep sense of foreboding that he doomed all of the things he loved.

Walburga was bewitched to sleep by her husband, and locked in her own rooms with her house elf Kreacher. Sirius was moved to Orion’s chambers, and his father watched over him all night to ensure his safety from his own mother. Orion slept with one eye open that night, and it would be the first of many nights that he would.

Ever since that night, Walburga’s delusions grew stronger. She would lounge on her chaise in the parlor, drapes drawn closed to block out the sun, and refused to walk unless it was absolutely necessary. She feared that if she were to take a wrong step, she would shatter, and then her beloved husband would be left to raise that monster claiming to be her son, alone. On her good days, and those were few, she would play her lyre and have afternoon tea with close family and friends. On her bad days, she would sip away at barely legal potions and smoke her opium.

The paintings had even begun gossiping among themselves. They whispered thinly veiled threats and moaned over the state their family has fallen to. Kreacher was quick to silence them. Orion would occasionally curse them if the house elf hadn’t got to them, but he usually drank his scotch.

Little Sirius loved his mother and would babble often to her. Sometimes she would humor him, and pat his fat little cheeks. Usually she would ignore him, in favor for a glass of wine, or the dark colored potions. She did have to admit, he was a lovely child, if not willful, but he was simply not her’s and she couldn’t help but fear him.

“Mama,” Little Sirius reached out to her.

Walburga picked him up, surprised by his weight, and let him rest beside her on the chaise. He quickly nuzzled into her bosom, not caring that his mother was mostly bones and did not have the traditional softness a mother should, and his little hand reached out for a lock of her hair. It was dark, much like his own, and brought comfort.

His mother put down her drink, and stopped puffing away at her opium, and for the first time since his birth she took a good look at him. He was a handsome child, almost a year old, and was starting to develop a strong personality. His first words had even been, “no, papa.”

She thought carefully, and her heart beat quickly as this _thing_ fell asleep next to her. She could kill him now, but he had already enchanted her husband and she was wont to admit that he had started to win her own heart. She hated that. She hated that she had slowly started loving him. She hated that she didn’t realize she was falling in love with a monster.

Despite the child being a monster and not being hers, she realized that she had grown fond of him over the months, despite the headaches he gave her. As Walburga fell asleep next to Little Sirius, she had the epiphany that maybe it was okay that she had grown to love this little monster.

And so, at almost a year old, Little Sirius finally became his mother’s beloved child. She accepted that he was a beast, a changeling, a monster, but he was _hers_ , and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will edit later, but i have to admit i'm a bit tipsy while posting and i was a bit tipsy while writing.


End file.
